Magic Irving and His Magic Shoppe

Inspiration (soon to be perspiration) took over as Detective Petersen gave chase. Feeling like the highly decorated cop he believed himself to be, he knew he could catch the speeding car, just by brutally pumping his arms while he ran and outthinking the driver. He started down the same street the Mustang was headed, but soon realized he had to take risks, so he cut into an alley in hopes of cutting the boy off at the pass or, more accurately, Petersen hoped Jethro would turn at the next corner and this short cut would close the gap. It almost worked. Detective Petersen emerged from the alley just as the Mustang passed by.

"Damn," was the single word uttered by the nearly breathless Petersen. He was tired. He was out of his element. He was angry he had ever seen a movie cop outrun a car. But, he wasn't beaten.

Up ahead. In the direction the Mustang was headed was a bridge, a small bridge, with a small ten cent toll.

Can you imagine a toll of only ten cents still existing anywhere in America? Well, it does, in Minterville, on a small two-lane bridge across the Oyevay River. Members of the City Council had argued, for years, that the toll should simply be abolished. Other Council members argued that the toll was needed to cover the salaries of the toll collectors.

"Idiot," one anti toll Council member yelled back, "If we abolish the toll, we won't have any salaries to pay. So what are you worrying about?"

"I'm worrying about Tom Meehan, Dick Yuon and Sally Zayan."

"Who are they?"

"The toll collectors. And, we can't just fire them. They're almost ready to retire."

"Can't we just transfer them to other jobs we have open? We'll avoid adding new people to the city payroll and still keep these toll collectors on until they retire."

"But, that's just the problem."

"What?"

"They're toll collectors."

"I know what they are. That's what started this mishagass."

"I mean, their official civil service designation is 'toll collector.' That means they can't do anything else without taking a new civil service test and winning official redesignation."

"Can't they even be washroom attendants?"

"Not without official designation."

"And, what's your official designation? Moron?"

The debate escalated into a shouting match that, subsequently, erupted into a chair-throwing, water pitcher-heaving, window-shattering brawl. It took three police officers to bring calm to council chambers, but not before two council-members had lost teeth, one received a blackened eye and one sustained a broken arm when a chair landed on it. All in all, a typical council meeting.

City Council President Jefferson Williams even broke his gavel, trying to restore order.

Konk. Konk. Konk. "Will the good council please come to order." Konk. Konk. "The council will come to order, NOW!" Konk. Konk. Konk. "C'mon you guys, we've got a meeting to run." Konk. Konk. CRASH! "Now, look what you made me do. You're gonna pay for this. Come to order or you'll all be impeached."

The threat had no effect. Nobody even heard it. They were too busy acting like . . . like . . . like . . . who knows what. They certainly were not acting like adults, but, then again, they were local politicians.

This classic political debate, which was televised to local viewers, opposite reruns of Gilligan's Island and new episodes of the newest reality show, Congress, ended in deadlock, just as it always did. The result: nothing new. So, Tom Meehan, Dick Yuon and Sally Zayan were retained as Minterville's official, full time toll collectors, at least until they retired.

And, it was Sally Zayan on duty as Jethro Solomon approached the tollbooth.

"Got change of a dollar, Sally?" Everyone in Minterville knew Tom, Dick and Sally. And, they knew just about everyone.

"Sure, Jethro, you don't mind all dimes do you." It was more a statement than a question.

As Sally was counting out the change, the phone in her booth rang.

"Hello, Oyevay River Toll Booth, Sally Zayan, certified toll collector, speaking."

"Miss Zayan, this is Detective Petersen, Minterville Police. Please delay the young man in the mustard yellow Mustang until I arrive.

Sally didn't question the call. Though she had never met him, she knew of Detective Petersen's exploits (she had been quite taken with his quick work in the 'Case of the Missing Donuts') and was sure that if he wanted this young man detained, it was her duty to detain him.

"Let's see, now, that's ten cents out of a dollar," she explained to Jethro, "That means I owe you ninety cents."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jethro thought it odd that the toll collector didn't just throw the change at him, but he had been taught to be polite to strangers, especially senior citizens.

"Here's one dime. That's ten cents. Here's another dime. That makes twenty cents. Only seventy cents to go now. Here's another dime and we've reached thirty cents."

Something wasn't quite right and Jethro was getting suspicious, but he kept his hand out as Sally continued to count dimes into it.

"Here's a really shiny dime. That brings us to forty cents with only fifty to go."

Through his rear view mirror Jethro spotted Detective Petersen running at full speed. It was all he could do, not to laugh. He runs like a flamingo on stilts, the boy thought, then out loud, "Keep the change, Sally. Just lift the gate and let me through. I'm kind of in a hurry."

"It will be just another few moments. Hold your horses. Let's see. Now, you've made me lose count."

But, Jethro couldn't hold his horses. He was trapped. Detective Petersen was rapidly approaching and he had drawn his gun. Sally wouldn't lift the steel gate (it used to be wooden, but so many people crashed through it to avoid the toll, that the city council - yes, that group, again - voted to install an impenetrable barrier at a cost that exceeded one toll collector's salary for a year).

Jethro Solomon took the only action he believed was open to him. He jumped from his car, joined Sally Zayan in the tollbooth and took her hostage.